


mind a raging torrent

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, implied animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10433559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: There's something to be said for someone who can see you at your worst and not flinch.For men like McCree and Hanzo, there's nothing worse than pity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I RETURN TO THE OVERWATCH FANDOM 3 MONTHS LATE WITH STARBUCKS
> 
> Look guys, I've been buried in homework and am still buried in homework. I just got time to finally answer some prompts in my ask box. Huzzah! Have this drabble!

After Jesse doesn’t come to the mess hall for breakfast or dinner, Hanzo seeks him out.

He’s gotten to know the man over the last few months. Maybe it was their mutual talent as sharpshooters, maybe it was their time on the road, but when Jesse had decided to give him a chance despite his past mistakes (and didn’t the word mistake feel like a horrendous understatement) Hanzo hadn’t turned down the chance at companionship.Over the last few months, they’d gone from co-workers, to companions, to close friends, and after being without any of the following for a decade, Hanzo can’t help but feel that he’s managed to strike someone else’s luck. There are few in this world who would friend a man who murdered his brother. There are fewer who are willing to listen to him speak about advanced geometry and classic video games.

They’re both secretive men, and because of that, Hanzo thinks, they’re more willing to tell each other secrets long unspoken. A man who keeps his secrets tucked away is more likely to do the same with others. Jesse knows that Hanzo has a photo of his brother that he travels with (Hanzo himself ripped out of the frame), he knows why Hanzo no longer wishes to touch a sword, he knows about the incident in Tokyo that left Hanzo a scar on his left shoulder. In turn Hanzo knows that Jesse McCree’s name wasn’t always Jesse McCree, that Deadlock made him practice shooting on stray cats, that his arm aches with it always rains. 

They know those secrets as well as the other ones, the ones not spoken. Things one learns only when someone lets their mask fall for a fraction of a second. Jesse has seen Hanzo unable to get out of bed one Sunday morning, he has met him in the kitchen at two in the morning, he sees the cracks in Hanzo’s psych and doesn’t flinch. 

Hanzo owes him the same treatment. Which is why he takes a bowl of soup and a glass of water to Jesse’s room. 

He’s been here a few times, more often than he used to. The door is closed and he knocks twice, clearing his throat. The soup in his other hand tremors with the motion. “Jesse. It’s Hanzo.”

Silence. Hanzo expected that. He’s done the same more than once. He knocks again. “I’ve brought soup. Tomato. Since you missed the last two meals of the day.” Silence again. Also expected. “I can leave it out here and leave if you want. It has a lid.”

That gets him a response. The door slides open, a button being pressed from a remote and Hanzo walks inside, letting it shut behind him. The lights are on, and across from Jesse’s bed the TV plays an old Western. Jesse himself is lying on the bed under a layer of covers, hand motionless over the remote. A bottle of whiskey is half empty on his bedside table. He doesn’t look sick, only tied, no pallor to his face, no red rimmed eyes. But looks aren’t always the truth. 

“Thanks,” Jesse says, his voice lacking it’s usual cheer. Hanzo walks over and places the soup and water on his bedside table. When he moves the whiskey out of Jesse’s reach, the man doesn’t stop him. “You didn’t have to-”

“You didn’t have to do the same for me a month ago.” That he did. Only Jesse brought stew instead of soup.

Jesse sits up at that, just a fraction. “Of course I did, you’re my friend-”

“And you are mine. So stop lingering on it.” Jesse closes his mouth, thinking better of trying to rebuttal. “The soup is still warm. I would eat it before it gets cold: it will be harder to eat that way.”

“Yeah. Right.” In around ten minutes Jesse is eating the soup at the small table on the other side of his quarters, Hanzo sitting across from him. If Jesse eats slower than usual, neither mention it. 

“Are you still going to the shooting range today?” Hanzo asks when Jesse has eaten half the bowl. Jesse shakes his head. 

“Nah. Too jittery. Best if I stay here. Let it pass.”

“Will that take long?”

“Should be this bad for more than a day. If it keeps, I’ll go bother Angela.”

Hanzo doubts that, but it’s not his right to intrude. Jesse’s bad days are a different kind than his, often out of the blue and fierce. Hanzo’s periods of melancholy often come in wakes, last for a few days and ebb as long as they took to arrive. He will have to trust Jesse to judge his own moods himself. He’s offered Hanzo the same courtesy. 

Hanzo looks to the television. “Is this Blazing Saddles?”

“Yep. One of the ones I keep round for days like this. You seen it?”

“Yes.” Being a mercenary left him with free time as he waited for jobs. Movies surprisingly, had been a good way to pass the time. He looks back at Jesse. “Do you mind if stay and watch with you?”

Jesse’s spoon pauses in his bowl. He rubs his hand through his beard, his eyes focused on the TV. Not meeting his. “You don’t gotta-”

“This isn’t about having to. I’d like to. It’s a good movie.” Jesse looks at him, not right on, but out of the corner of his eye. Hanzo stands up straighter and decides to let his own mask down for a moment. It’s only fair. “And good company.”

Jesse has nothing to argue against that.

Later sitting on Jesse’s bed as the final scene plays, Hanzo says nothing as Jesse beings to speak in a voice barely more than a whisper. What Jesse tells him, Hanzo hides among his own secrets, as Jesse has done with his own.

There's something to be said for someone who can see you at your worst and not flinch.

Hanzo is glad he’s found him. 


End file.
